I was sitting in my office today sneaking 20 minutes of a novel I'm reading. Not That Kind of Girl, by Lena Dunham. The one I read before was called Oblivion by Josephine Hart. I love book jackets, they are excellent covers, pun intended, and they are also built in bookmarks. This one seems kind of like a sequel to the other one, but don't try this at home because your perceptions and reality are very different from mine. I was about 39-40 pages in when I read something that caused my soul to fly out of my body and splat against the ceiling in the corner of my office. My soul stared down at my body, through milky white soul eyes, to find it sinking deeply into my office chair. My arms were reaching out to my desk, grabbing it, trying to stay grounded.
I hovered there for about 5-10 minutes, not quite believing or grasping what I read. I've seen denial, I've seen it do strange things. I've seen people with tumors the size of golf balls growing out of their neck attribute it to a car wreck they had 8 months ago. I will never scoff at this again. When you are living in a state of perpetual chaos, I suppose that the recesses of your mind become caverns, entrapping your most fervent wishes and desires. A place to covet, a place to shelter you from things that don't fit your version of yourself. I'm pretty darn good at escaping reality, I learned that trick at a young age. I know I've done this a handful of times in my life to protect myself, but I've never regretted it more than this time. When you have such a major world shift about your past, subsequent events become much clearer.
God love the phone. When it rang my soul flew back into my body. "Ready in CT4." I shakily pulled myself out of my stupor and went to do my job. Thank goodness for work, it keeps me sane. There was a moment not long after my divorce, when I desperately messaged a friend on Facebook. I was floundering, single mom craziness, and I needed clarity. The information I gained from that exchange made me realize that I was OK, I was sane, I could go on. I never thanked her for that.
We all have lots of moments of clarity in our lives. I've been grateful for many, and I look forward to more in the future. I don't have much to offer, but there is this. There is one moment that forever changed my life and has propelled me to now where I have hope, dreams, and desires. I was at a backyard party, holding my toddler son in my arms, keeping a watchful eye on my daughter. I looked over toward a park bench under a tree and saw a turtle. I imagined a female turtle - I've always been much more comfortable around women even though I'm fiercely attracted to men. It was just a turtle, but it was a big turtle. It must have been a trick in my mind but for an instant she dwarfed the park bench. I didn't see her face, she was still deeply in her shell. Simultaneously I was struck by lightning; it rattled my soul and energized my body and I had to lean against a tree to keep from dropping my son to the ground. I looked up at the sun in the sky to verify that it was a clear sunny cloudless day. I looked back at the turtle.
I'll never stop chasing that turtle. Even though I'm like a rabbit; no more dolphin honestly, I cannot keep up. I love how in life just when we think we are on top of our game - there's nothing left to learn, nothing new to know, we are sideswiped; knocked to the ground. It's good for us. Keeps us humble, keeps us trying. I've enjoyed watching the turtle morph into it's true self - the She-Bear. Love is a mystery, but I like to think there are grand puppet masters pulling the strings. The Divine, if you will. If I meet them someday I'll thank them then I'll clock them. Death is not an end, it's a restart button. Life happens over and over infinitely, which is both comforting and thrilling, like being in the front on a scary roller coaster with your mouth wide open breathing in all of humanity, the good and the evil, filtering it through your soul.